Slowly But Surely
Everyone I know who lives with a mental health condition has barometers they can use to judge how “okay” they are -- almost like a list of symptoms that you can use to demonstrate if things are going all right or if you need extra help.
Over the years, I’ve figured out a lot of these for myself. For example, if I’m feeling the impulse to overeat--especially sweet or salty foods--I know something’s not right. Warning signs of a hard time can also be something more easily spotted, like crying more, having less patience for everyday things, or not wanting to interact with friends or family.
It’s important to keep in mind that these warning signs aren’t the same for everyone, but for most people I know, it’s a good sign to check in when someone’s not “acting like themselves.”
Even though I have many more easily observable signs to tell that I’m not feeling quite right, the most obvious sign for me is that my creativity completely disappears. This doesn’t just mean that I’m not interested in writing--it means that I can’t and don’t have any interest in trying.
Normally, when I go for a walk, I wear headphones and listen to music that inspires me to write stories in my head. It makes the walks feel faster and also gives me great enjoyment--as does my usual nightly tradition of making up stories in my head before I go to sleep. But this is something that requires head space, which means I can’t be worrying about too many things at once or I literally won’t be able to come up with even the simplest ideas.
Ever since I got back from New Zealand, and especially since Nana got sick and died, I have had nearly no interest in writing at all--and not just my own. I’m usually an avid reader and I love everything from thousand-page books full of worldbuilding to silly short stories that people post online, but I have struggled to be interested in reading anything at all.
I knew something like this would happen as soon as Nana got sick. It’s a hallmark of every hard time in my life, and yet, it’s still frightening to live without something that I consider one of the main parts of my personality and one of my favorite things that my brain does. And, unlike some other signs of a bad time that I can work on, creativity can’t be forced. I just have to wait for it to come back, and hope it’s sooner rather than later.
In the hopes of encouraging my creativity to return, I signed up for the Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang writing challenge once again this year. I’ve done it every year since it started, but this year would be the first I wouldn’t be able to call Nana and share excerpts over the phone--something that made it harder for me to choose an art prompt to write a story about.
I wound up with my third choice prompt, and initially, I doubted that I could muster any creativity. I didn’t have any ideas, and the artist who created the piece I received was eager to talk about all of her many ideas. I started to wonder if this was a good idea at all, but since the story wouldn’t have to be completed for two months, I decided to stick with it and see if my head would cooperate.
For the first month, I wasn’t really able to do much at all aside from name the two characters in the picture--and that was with help from the artist. I still doubted myself but knew that a story of this length is usually not a challenge for me, and since it’s fanfiction, I have the added bonus of getting to geek out over Lord of the Rings while brainstorming and (eventually) writing.
I couldn’t force inspiration to come, but eventually, a little spark showed up. After five weeks of giving myself patience and time (something I’m not great at, but I certainly work hard to do), I finally decided that I needed to either start writing or back out of the challenge, and I wanted to at least give it a try.
I wanted to make things as easy as possible, so since the story is about orcs, I took inspiration from the line many people get silly with from The Two Towers of “looks like meat’s back on the menu, boys!” It’s common to see jokes about orc restaurants and the fact that they clearly require reservations, as “one does not simply walk into Mordor.”
Starting with something more widely discussed like this is a way for me to proverbially dip my toe into the waters of creativity without stressing myself out too much. I usually find the idea of a story that could be about literally anything exciting, but when it’s hard to come up with anything at all, the openness feels more intimidating than inspiring.
I came up with four restaurant-based ideas and sent them to the artist, who quickly liked two of the ideas and figured out a way to put them together. We had a fun conversation bouncing ideas back and forth, and during that conversation, I felt myself finally getting excited at the prospect of writing a new story.
I’m still at the beginning of the writing process, so I can’t promise a happy ending right now--but it seems like things are heading in that direction. I’ve been more inspired to imagine stories on my walks and when I’m falling asleep, and every time a bit of inspiration comes back, I am so happy to know that I’m recovering even just a little bit. And Nana, who always supported my creativity, would be thrilled to know that it’s making a slow but steady return.
Michelle Cohen, a writer in the Chicago area, was diagnosed with OCD at age 3. She hopes to educate others about her condition and end the stigma against mental illness.